


ORPHAN WORK

by orphan_account



Category: Multi-Fandom, NCIS: Los Angeles, NCIS: Los Angeles RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, New York City, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Recreational Drug Use, Running Away, Survivor Guilt, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:50:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jensen is an academically overachieving and socially underachieving young man.Fortunately or unfortunately, his lifelong friends, Eric and Daniela, are the complete opposite. They are outgoing and extroverted people... and they act as if no time has passed at all since they were all last together. Nonetheless, it's a time for reunions and a time for reconciliation, and, even though Jensen is a changed man now - not that his friends would understand how and why that is of course -, he'll give it all he has. Nevermind that he has a bruised and beaten heart: one that he only keeps for himself.But remember, kids. Not all that shines and sparkles for you will be gold. And not all those who wander are lost...





	ORPHAN WORK

> We live on front porches and swing life away;  
>  We get by just fine here on minimum wage;  
>  If love is a labor, I'll slave till the end;  
>  I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand. — Rise Against; _Swing Life Away_

 

July 14, 2017

Jensen sat on the rocks by the pier's edge, watching the boats and ships go by as he listened to the waves of the ocean as they crashed into the coast by his feet. Soaking in the sunshine before the sun finally set, he watched, with envy, a couple of young teens jumping into the water near him. Gawking briefly at how vivid the pink and purple sky was and, in doing so, enjoying the view, he sighed because it was seriously breathtaking.

Jensen loved this little beach town called Bar Harbor. Here, a few hours away from his hometown into Maine, he could find peace. _A perfect combination of mountains and waterfront_ , he thought to himself _._ He usually came here alone, and, whenever he came here, he always felt as though his soul was being restored. It was something special. And everything about this place was wonderful: so welcoming and charming...

 

\-------------------------

Let's talk about change.

Like death, **change** can be scary. In fact, it can be absolutely terrifying. And it's not a fun thing to talk about, but I'd like to think that it's an important topic to tackle, namely because how you deal with change is a reflection of your intelligence. It's also a measure of your character. And so it's what sets you apart from the rest, what makes you special... If you don't deal with it well, what could happen is that you could pick up unhealthy habits like smoking, drinking and eating badly just to help you to cope with it: just to get through it all and be resilient in doing so... But that's not a good idea, for reasons that I won't get into here. Ergo, how you deal with change is a lot like how you deal with stress or being under pressure. It's also a lot like dealing with adversity. However, the thing you need to remember throughout it all is, how you deal with change as well learning how to deal with change is a choice, and it's a choice that only you can make. Ultimately, it's your decision to make: either you accept it and somehow make something good out of it, or you simply endure it. Once you've made that choice, there's no going back. You can only make amends with what is, what was or what could have been. If you don't make amends, well you'll be haunted by your mistakes, and that's the kind of shit that'll cost you a fortune in therapy, _believe me._ It's really not the way to go, if you catch my drift.

Of course, Jensen knew that the mind could be a lonely place and that the road he had taken upon himself to ride along was a deserted one, but he could deal with it better now than before. He was, by all means, better equipped for the ups and downs of life. That being said, he had the benefit now of knowing that the mind could also be a powerful thing when exercised correctly. Not to mention, Jensen likes to think that he was getting **better** and better by the day at this 'game' that they call life... Albeit, to be fair, some days were so hard on Jensen that they might as well be setbacks, and it felt a lot like the whole world was conspiring against him on these days just to know it, perhaps in the spirits of kicking him, again and again, when he's already down. Believe it or not, it seemed to be the in thing to do these days in his entourage: cripple and maim the sensitive ones... Oh, the glory of being a bully in this day and age! But that's the start to another story!

Now, specifically, what change does to you is that it tests your limits and allows you to see the world with different eyes. It flips you upside down and twists around your insides, testing you both physically and mentally in a way that leaves you both with a bad stomach ache and a shattered ego. And so remarkably, because people are often thunderstruck by the concept as well as the reality of change, many avoid it like the plague, while some try to reason not dealing with it at all by saying that it's waste of time and **energy**. Talk about pulling wool over your eyes!

However, it has to be said that Jensen was no stranger to pain and uncertainty: he knew that not only did he need change, he wanted to change and start anew. And so he had learned to live with change and to accept it for what it was. With change came grieving, and with grieving came panic attacks, nightmares and insomnia... But Jensen had to believe that he would, one day, find his way throughout it all seeing as, let's face it, he hadn't found it yet. And in those countless nights of no sleep, he'd be brainstorming to find a way: some solutions to his problems...

And now, to end this little parenthesis, I guess we can simply say that change is, overall, just a really painful experience, for a lot of people that is, mainly because you don't know what you're in for when you're facing change, and not everyone is capable of facing their own limitations all the while undergoing some kind of metamorphosis to their whole life and being. Through it all, you have to keep your head strong because, after all, it's only the right thing to do, and no one likes an unbalanced soul or mind. You have to ask yourself,  _do I have what it takes?_

In light of the foregoing considerations, Jensen was still making his way through his everyday life in a seemingly okay manner. Ultimately, the disaster that had been looming over him since 2010 now pretty much gone. And so he now had something worth celebrating: his PTSD vis-à-vis his fall back in 2010 and everything that had led up to it was like dust in the wind. He'd licked his wounds in silence as the whole world had buzzed and buzzed around him, which, by the way, Jensen remembers had only increased the headaches then, but... Nevertheless, he'd covered up his tracks like a pro and had backed out of that hell scene secure, all in time. For the first time now, he felt like he'd actually won at something, and he'd managed it all through earnest striving. Let's just say that it was quite the achievement, perhaps the achievement of a lifetime...

 

March 31/April 1 2017

“So, how're you feeling?” asked Eric from his seat on the couch next to Jensen. The room was well lit and there was a laptop seated on the computer table on the other side of the room, just a few feet away from them, playing all kinds of alternative rock and metal songs. The song playing right now was 'Swamped' by Lacuna Coil, an Italian goth and metal band from Milan, in many ways like Evanescence and Within Temptation, but with somewhat of a different sound: a heavier and more instrumental, more aggressive sound... Jensen thought to himself, _I like it_.

The words from the song's chorus washed over him, rocked the air and slammed into him like a physical blow or some kind of nuclear blast, but it sounded like a siren and left him wanting more, struck into silence by something almost spiritual and utterly euphoric. There was beauty there in the pain of the singer's voice. Jensen was overtaken then by a mixture anguish and ecstasy.

With his head pushed back against the cushions from the top back of the couch, Jensen's eyes shot up to the ceiling, staring at the ceiling fan as well as the bland pocked ceiling of the room. As he turned his head towards the window to his right, he was met with the sight of an unrecognized city sprawled there for him outside. It was getting late. It was dark and only getting darker. There were no stars in the City, only oceans and oceans of towers. “I don’t know, man,” was Jensen's reply; simple and sweet. A moment passed before he spoke again, “But I think I like it,”

As soon as the words left Jensen's mouth, Eric burst out laughing. What a dork... He then scratched his stomach and leaned over to knock the ash off of their joint into the ashtray that sat on the coffee table next to his side of the couch. Jensen let his eyes settle for a second on the lampshade of the table. “Dude, you are so **fucking** high,” Eric said, smiling. “And I'm such a bad influence,” he added with a giggle, turning back.

“Shut up, Eric,” said Jensen, slightly moving over in his seat so he could lightly kick Eric's leg because he was being insensitive. After all, Jensen was an adult and it was his decision to do this, all pros and cons considered. As you may or may not already know, Jensen had an uncanny ability to analyze just about everything. And he couldn't afford to think that this was the wrong thing to do, not when it was a calculated move and he'd been good for so long. Also, he had a conscience so intense that the mere thought of his crimes tormented him to no end. “You stupid, motherfucking son of a bitch,” he added with a cackle, making sure to smile so it was clear to Eric that there were no hardships between them. It wasn't Eric's fault that Jensen had so much insight. It wasn't Eric's fault that Jensen was different, that he stood for something else... Jensen had a lot of character.

“I want... I need space. I have to listen to myself think,” said Jensen. He stood up then, but, feeling dizzy and lightheaded because he had taken it upon himself to stand up too fast, he fell heavily back down into his seat, collapsing into the cushions. Not to mention, it was the middle of the night and he was stranded in an apartment in the middle of the City with nowhere to go and nothing better to do than to sit on this couch right now with his good friend, Eric. At this hour, the subway was closed, and there were no more buses out of the City. Also, let it be known that it was somewhat of an obligation of moral tenure for him to be here right now with Eric and Daniela, the latter being the host of this party and owner of this apartment. This was more than a social experiment: Eric, Daniela and Jensen went way back. He'd known Eric since elementary.

 **Now**   **of course** , Jensen was full-blown baked. Everyone in this apartment was high. But Eric ought to know that Jensen had been totally fucked up before, back when they were always hanging out together and getting shit-faced in bars, around 2011. Eric had been close enough to Jensen during those times to see this ultimate sadness in him. Understand this: Jensen had always been somewhat of a walking contradiction - he was his very own Devil's advocate -, but, during those times, Jensen had been all but falling apart, drinking every night... At that time, Jensen had no future. His dreams were broken with all opportunities for true happiness lost. And so now, Jensen paused for a few moments before continuing again. This here was a milestone for him because he hadn't touched this stuff since 2012... He'd said he'd never touch it again.

“I haven’t smoked this shit in over five years,” Jensen huffed, deciding to go with just stating the obvious, but then trying his best not to make a big deal of this: of the fact that he was smoking this shit again for the first time in five years. Jensen wondered, _is this a good or bad thing?_

Eric gave him a pointed look with what appeared to be a surprised face, borderline astonished. It looked like he couldn’t believe a single word of what Jensen had just said. It was always strange when people reacted this way to Jensen, as though they were dumbfounded by his words and actions; his very existence... It always made him feel uneasy; decidedly, there was this disconcerting unease that crept into his mind, making him worry about just about everything, mainly because he had no working theory for it as to why this should happen. “Five years, seriously?” Eric asked, cocking his head to the side all the while looking at him with a puzzled look. “The most I’ve gone without it is six months,”

All the while staring at the beer in his hands and playing with the tag on it, Jensen blinked slowly then, after a moment, smiled, in a way that probably would have surprised anyone who knew him in the last few years. Leave it to Eric to make this situation good. Jensen could understand why Eric was such a big fan of this stuff. For Jensen, with marijuana, he could escape the weight of his thoughts; the seriousness of him... Usually, Jensen's mind wouldn't let him escape the conflicted emotions that fluctuated between despair, defiance—confusion, and guilt, inside of him. In a way, his mind was a Pandora's box and his life was one big bitter pill to swallow. “Well, it's been five years for me; so give me a **break** ,”

Eric nodded then looked down and around. As it went, a few minutes passed. Neither talked as they drank their beers and sat beside one another.

“You know, Canada’s going to legalize it soon,” Eric added; an affirmation implying there over a question, a statement... Who knew?

“Yeah, well that shit ain't normal,” answered Jensen just as suddenly as Eric had finished saying those words; a statement, not a question. It's what society was telling them to be afraid of. It's what he told himself to hate, all those years he was going cold turkey.

“Oh,” Eric shook his head, utterly aghast; he was taken aback by Jensen's assertion... “No, Jensen,” he exhaled then turned completely in his seat just to get a better look of Jensen; a serious look in his eyes, although the remnants of a smile were still hanging off his lips...

Jensen chuckled then at the face Eric was making and let his mind wander for a brief moment as he peered at the homemade dreamcatcher hanging on the wall across the room from them. It had clearly been made with tree branches and rope and had an acorn in the middle of it. What a funny pair they made! And here was Eric now - this simple, sweet albeit predictable guy; a real carebear who wore his heart on his sleeve and didn't seem to be faced with any inner turmoil -, making a serious little face and engaging Jensen into a large-scale debate about cannabis and its benefits for the world. There wasn't a piece of Eric that was capable of hatred or envy. Yet, he always took a bold stance on issues of controversy and was never afraid to state his opinions, all the while fully respecting his adversaries. It's safe to say that Eric could teach Jensen a thing or two about life...

“We're the **crazy** ones,” he said. Then, all of a sudden, his face dropped its cheery curves and a sad little look crept up into his eyes. Oh dear God, Jensen knew what this was... He was going to go off on a tangent, like right at this very minute! No, no, no, **no** , no... Jensen wasn't ready.

“I know, I just –” Jensen interrupted. He really didn't want to talk about this. It was too controversial a topic. Not to mention, he wasn't supposed to have opinions. When trying to converse with people, he'd often been told to shut up in the past; even his family hated his voice... They'd always hated it; and so, they'd done their best to chase it out of him. Now, he just wanted to erase it all: this, the fact that it's illegal to do this, the fact that he probably shouldn't be doing this right now... “I know. I mean, I know, I know, I know –” Jensen stuttered.

“And they’re light years ahead of us,” Eric said, ignoring his friend's discomfort in favor of finishing what he was going to say. “But justice will prevail on our rights, Jensen; just you wait and see,” he sighed wistfully, a quiver on his lips catching his last few words. He was staring out into the empty room now, as if in a trance. “All these assholes, you know... These motherfuckers continually seek to point out our flaws and hide their own, to use our flaws against us in whatever way they want or whatever way suits them best, but... but they'll never say a thing about our qualities, man: the things they envy us for... And they'll blame what we don't do right on stupid shit like this and that, but there's a hidden reason for that, you know. We live in a capitalist world,” He took a second to catch his breath. “They'll criticize nonstop how other persons live their lives, although they're in no condition to be telling others how to live their lives and because their own life is a total fucking mess: after all, they're either sheep or sociopaths... But they won't do anything about their own faults, no. They've got their head so far up their asses and all they want to do is break our spirits, take away our freedoms... so they can fucking **own** us, man... And that's why they seek to control our rights to-”

At that moment, Daniela came into the room. She pulled the chair from the computer table across the room to a position near the couch then plopped down onto it, all in a flash. “Hey guys,” she began, tilting her head towards their position on the couch, drinking PBR beer. “What's up?”

“Hi,” said Jensen at the same time Eric said, eyes shining bright with a glistening smile to match it, “Howdy,”

Leaning back into the **faux leather** couch on which they were sitting, Eric let his eyes slowly move down from Daniela to the coffee table and then back up to her as he shook the ash once again off their joint into the ashtray on the table by his side. “Jensen was just saying that he needs some time to hear himself think,” he said with a naughty little smile. At this, Jensen sat up very straight with his hands in his lap and gazed down at his knees for a moment before looking back up. He took a loud gulp and then cackled nervously.

Daniela laughed and gave Jensen a fond look. “Our little Jenny's high as a kite, alright,” she said as her lips curved into a smile. After swishing the liquid around in her beer can for a moment all the while hunched over, she stood up and leaned over Eric so she could kiss him softly on the lips for a second, her right hand gripping his left shoulder for support as her left hand held her beer. Then, pulling back, she turned to look at Jensen and gave him a gleeful look as she tapped on his left knee with the hand that wasn't holding her beer. “Anyway, it's nice to see you, Jensen,”

“Yeah, it's been a while. Jensen never comes out anymore,” bemusedly said Eric, eyes catching with Daniela's own; a hidden message. _A joke._

Daniela leaned back and sat back down, then took a gulp of her beer. “Yep,” _Were they teasing him? What the Hell was this?_

“Fuck this shit,” Jensen lamented, depositing his half-full can of beer onto the floor next to the couch, then stood up and walked over to the hall entrance. He leaned over briefly there to put on his shoes. “We need more beer for tonight, and the stores stop selling it in about 15 minutes,” he said, knowing they'd understand because this right here was part of their _bro coded_ way of life. “I'll be back in ten with more **beer** ,”

 

 _♪_  
Just another day;  
The shame is gone;  
It's hard to believe, hey,  
That I've let it go away...

It's just a melody;  
It bleeds in me;  
It's hard to believe, hey,  
That I've let it go.

 

Afterwards, as Jensen walked down the street towards its junction with Winchester Road, he kept his eyes on the sidewalk with his head down and his fists thrust deep into his pockets. The apartment buildings around were old and dreary with not a patch of greenery or a tree in sight. Avoiding fire hydrants and street lamps, he all but glided down this street - Harvelle Road -, towards the corner store which was just up ahead.

  

MINUTES LATER

“Daniela,” Jensen called out as he opened the front door to Daniela's apartment.

“In the kitchen!” she hollered back from a couple of rooms away.

Carrying a **twelve-pack** of Bud in 12-ounce bottles as well as two large bags of Doritos - one with Nacho Cheese Flavored Tortilla chips and the other with Ranch Dipped Hot Wings Flavored Tortilla Chips -, Jensen made his way into the well-lit apartment of Daniela, where he knew several people were waiting, all of whom most certainly had the munchies. They were mostly all Daniela's friends. Closing the door behind him, he deposited the beer and chips briefly onto the floor so he could remove his shoes. Then, after pushing them to the side, he picked the beer and chips up from the floor and made his way into the apartment. No one was in the sitting room, although the lights there were on. Music resounded across the apartment. He made his way to the kitchen, where his friends sat at the kitchen table... The air was thick with smoke and incense.

“Which is your favorite Star Wars' movie, Jensen?” asked Eric just as Jensen deposited his purchased goods on the table in front of them.

“I've never seen any of them,” said Jensen, pulling a chair out for himself.

Just like that, there was a collective gasp and the whole room went silent; everyone turning to look at Jensen. _Oh no..._

“Blasphemy!” wailed some guy from behind the counter. He wasn't wearing a shirt, he had long **scruffy hair** and there was a dog running around and jumping up and down around his feet, probably trying to get a taste of the blackberry pie that he had on a plate in his hands.

 

That night, they chatted about just about everything under the Moon: Star Wars, The Simpsons, their favorite '80s horror movies, how great they were feeling... Although everyone at the party came from different walks of life, they all got along perfectly, and, as good friends and acquaintances do, they teased each other left and right. It didn't matter where they'd been or where they were all headed, all that mattered was right there and then. What brought them together was their common appreciation of being intoxicated, whether it be by weed, music or beer... Truth be said, they were playing it totally cool. It was good for Jensen because it felt like sunshine and rainbows. They were getting closer and closer, and, sweet as sugar, being with these free and kindred spirits, it felt like he was back to his roots. It felt like home, like he was part of a team... It was utterly peaceful and friendly, like nothing else. And with a surprise, Jensen realized that it was this feeling that he been searching for his entire life.

 

 _♪_  
No one knows what it's like,  
To be the bad man,  
To be the sad man,  
Behind blue eyes.  
  
No one knows what it's like,  
To be hated,  
To be fated,  
To telling only lies.

 

HOURS LATER

Jensen sat next to Eric as he drove off into the night, stirring his emerald green SUV left and right through traffic. He let out a sigh a relief when he saw the sign indicating that they were leaving the City. Jensen studied the long road ahead of them. They'd been on the road for about fifteen minutes and they had another hour to go before they got back to their town, about 50 kilometers outside of the City. Jensen tried hard to keep his eyes open, but it was a losing battle. His eyes slid shut a moment. Then, he popped them back open and blinked a few times so he could keep his mind **focused** to his front. Jensen was stubborn, but he was also well-disciplined in the ways of how people should act.

“That's the point I'm making!” exclaimed Eric, his right hand moving up from the steering wheel so he can wave it around.

He sounded belligerent, but Jensen knew better than to ever think that way about Eric. Bringing himself out of his imaginings, Jensen sat up a bit straighter in his seat then turned to look briefly at Eric, whom he really hadn't seen in a very long time. “What?”

Just then, the car swept around a corner. He let his gaze fall back onto the road. He looked at the street signs as they passed by them. They were lit up by the perched on lights at the side of the highway.

“I'm quitting my job soon: giving up my apartment, selling all my stuff... I'm going out west. I just can't take this shit anymore, man. I've been working in the same place for the last eleven years. I need to get out of here, see the world; experience new things...” said Eric, hands tight around the wheel and eyes firm on the road. “And I don't know if you've noticed this, Jensen, but the people around here; they're not alright,” he added.

A silence followed as Jensen took in Eric's words. He sat stoically listening to his friend. Of course, he knew... “What will you do over there?”

Just then, they went under an overpass. The ground under the overpass was dry as opposed to the rest of the outdoors which was wet because it still had remnants of the winter there and around. And so unsurprisingly, there were homeless people there sleeping on the ground, covered in blankets. Jensen's heart clenched at the sight. He didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing that.

Eric looked into his rearview mirror and then turned to look over his shoulder at his blind spot before swerving into the next lane, the one to their left. “I'll figure that out when I get over there. I've got a tent and some other camping equipment: I'll set it up in a forest. I'll sleep on the ground, get cleaned up wherever I can...” he said, not a shred of fear or insecurity to his words. His eyes glittered with unshakable resolve. “I hear the farms over there are looking to hire a lot of people right now. I'd be working with a lot of Mexicans, but you know I like the Mexicans,” said Eric.

“What about Daniela?” asked Jensen. They'd been dating now for over four years and had a terrific **relationship**.

“We're going together,” replied Eric. “You should come with us, Jensen,” he added; with Eric always came a familiar invitation.

There was a convenient space between them and, for once, Jensen didn't mind the silence between them. At this point, a song was ending and a new one beginning on his friend's car's radio. Jensen recognized it as soon as it began. It was Limp Bizkit's song 'Behind Blue Eyes' that was now blasting out over the airwaves into the car. Jensen knew that one of Eric's bands was Limp Bizkit and that his favorite band was Slipknot. Jensen looked down at his hands, finally unclenching them. He stared thoughtfully at them and swivelled the Claddagh ring back and forth on the middle finger of his right hand, which he'd been doing most of the ride home thus far. “I respect what you guys are doing, I do; but I won't, I can't-”

“Yes, you can,” Eric shook his head and answered firmly, “If we can, so can you! You can do it with us.”

Jensen looked up and saw that Eric's hands were at the 10 and 2 positions on his steering wheel and that he was still focused on the road. Looking back down, he frowned a little. Jensen understood what was happening. His wonderful friends had been afflicted by a wanderlust that would take them eventually around the globe together. It was actually kind of romantic. He had experienced a similar thing a few years prior, but times had changed for Jensen and, with that, so had he. There was now a clock that was always ticking in his head - _tick tock tick tock -_ , reminding him of all that he had to do and when it had to be done. Not to mention, there was this part of him telling him that there was always something dangerous around the corner and that he ought to always be prepared for the unexpected because of it, lest he might get a very nasty surprise like he had back around 2010, back when, under the terrible circumstances of his life, he had wound up on the ground, crawling around and looking for his pride. He remembers it like yesterday: he remembers being defeated, broken, directionless, dazed and confused... He remembers feeling like he'd been shot a thousand times. And so basically, all scenarios had to be considered and prepared for now, **so on so forth**...

“I mean. For Christ's sake, Jensen...”

“ _Listen._ I've got this plan. I'll be done with my studies real soon. Then, I'll get a job with one of the major banks. And I'll be working all the time after that,” Jensen's studies and his work were all that he could think about now; pleasing others, namely his family.

“You know, Jensen; you'll wake up one day to find that ten years have gone by and you'll have next to nothing to show for it,”

Jensen didn't want to believe that. And he couldn't back down or bow out _, not now_. Jensen wasn't going anywhere, at least not any time soon..

“We get a job, we work, we get married, we have kids, we dress a certain way, we watch TV, we put money aside for our retirement, we do what we can to obey the law... But, in all this-” Eric said. “Jensen, we're not free. And the world will walk all over you until you learn to go nuclear,”   

A few seconds passed before Jensen answered. “Okay, Eric,” he responded with a little voice; surrender and submit. It was futile to argue.

“You're a good guy, Jensen; sometimes too good,” was the last thing Eric said before they crossed over the George Washington Bridge.


End file.
